Celene

I've been told I'm insane. I've been told I'm psychotic. I've been told I'm a spoiled brat. I say I'm driven, confident, ambitious. Besides, aren't I entitled to power? Why would I have been given these amazing talents if not to gain from them, and what better to gain than control? Isn't it about time I had control?
         Too many years I've sat under the gaze of my 'superiors', crossing my legs like a lady and answering their questions, with no answers for myself. It's my turn now, I'm asking the questions, giving the orders. Clean my dishes, wash my floors, don't speak to me in that tone of voice, or you will get it. And you sure as hell won't like it.
         
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         I was 14 years old when I murdered my parents in cold-blood. Well, they weren't really my parents and my blood felt quite warm as I watched theirs drip from them onto the floor. They never kept it a secret that I was adopted. The lowly cast-off dumpster baby of some whore that got lucky enough to be dropped off in their dumpster. Oh, whatever would I have turned into if Carl and Lucy hadn't shown me how to be a perfect lady?
         I'd have turned into a horrible liar, is what. They made sure I was perfectly adept at feigning a smile for the upper-class twits that graced the halls of their gorgeous mansion. No way I could ever let these highly respected bureaucrats know that Lucy loved her booze more than she loved Carl. And heaven forbid I mention the fact that Carl loved my youth more than he loved his money.
         "Money can't buy legs like those," he'd whisper. "You're beautiful, so beautiful"
         Funny, I never felt beautiful. I felt dirty,  and angry. Fuck, angry, I was pissed. I hated those two. Almost as much as I hated that goddamned black leather belt. Carl thought he was so suave, so debonair that even the proper little girl that was supposed to be his daughter would never be able to keep her hands off him. So much so that he strapped those hands down, as if they'd cling onto him and never let go. Truth being, if he had ever let me out of that belt himself, I'd have clawed his eyes out. In that room, no sound could ever escape. I could never escape.
         When Carl was done, he'd send Millie in for me. Most of the time he'd wait a couple hours before he sent her. She'd come in, all five foot wide of her, and silently untie me. Millie would never meet my eyes, would never listen to me when I told her to do something. She only listened to Carl, or Daddy Carl as he so often persisted I call him. Sometimes I wondered if she was even all there, I think she was smart and played dumb.
         Lucy would lay around all day, yelling at Millie for more drinks as her entourage kept her meticulously groomed. She never went out of her bedroom without her makeup caked, blonde hair pouffed and nails polished. And she never went a step further without a cocktail. She would slur her way through her days, sitting in her sun chair with a trashy novel. Every so often she would call me to her and lecture me on how good I had it cause when she was growing up she had nothing and she had given me every thing and I should more grateful to Daddy Carl and blah, blah, fucking blah. I listened like the good girl I was, the soft spoken daughter, the picture of innocence.
         Whenever I tried to tell her about how much 'Daddy Carl' loved me, she would turn a deaf ear and tell me to run along and finish my lessons. She never told me to run along and play because a proper lady never plays. A proper lady doesn't complain about a gentlemen’s attention, and 'Daddy Carl' appreciates a proper lady. Nothing more to it than that, Lucy always insisted.
         It was her ignorance and his persistence that got them killed. I couldn't have done it without the reliability of their faults.

         Late on a Sunday night, when 'Daddy Carl' usually made a special visit, I was sitting in my room feeling queasy. That wouldn't be acceptable as an excuse with Carl, he'd drag me kicking and screaming to that room if he had to. He'd done it numerous times before and noone ever bothered him, just cleaned his wonderful abode and minded their own business. But as I was sitting there, dreading his arrival and trying to repress the nausea, it turned into a warmth. The warmth felt nice, comforting. It was intoxicating, and it was getting stronger.
         Tap, tap, tap. The warmth enveloped me, blurring over my senses. I knew Carl was waiting outside my door and wouldnt wait long, but I couldn't move. As I sat there struggling to move, he became impatient and walked in my bedroom door.
         "What's wrong Celene, are we having another bad night? You know I hate to see my young lady ignoring her Daddy Carl." He grabbed me by my arm, gently, but I felt his frustration surge in the warmth as he touched me. It was unlike anything I'd ever felt before.
         "No, Daddy Carl, I'm fine, I'm just feeling a little weak from the sun today." I leaned against him, I didn’t have the strength to walk after that surge of whatever I got from him.
         "Well, my lady, let's get you relaxed in our bed." The sick fuck always referred to the bed in that room as if it was ours, shared willingly and lovingly.
         As I let him lead me, I could feel his anxiety growing, his anticipation. What was this? It felt so sweet, but so wrong. I knew what was happening and knew I couldnt fight it but I didn't have the dread knot in my stomach. Instead there was a pulsing that shuddered outwards with every step we took. I couldn't be sure but I felt as if I was sensing his feelings and this warmth was feeding on it, begging  for more. It helped move me towards that room that I tried to avoid at all costs.
         As we entered the room and he closed the door, I collapsed on the bed. I heard the lock slide shut and the veil of the strange heat was lifted. Everything cleared up in that split second and the warmth was replaced with that knot. The knot that told me to run away from what was about to happen. Usually I tried to retreat into my head, my imagination, but Carl liked a focused lady. So I focused on him, and as he stared at me, a grin lit up his face.
         "What is this emotion I see on your face, my dear? Could it be longing, or lust?" Carl was a man who liked the sound of his own voice and tried to be eloquent in all situations, including statutory rape situations. "Could it be you have finally realised how much you need it?"
         The warmth returned, a tiny angry fire in my stomach. Carl put his hands on his belt and stepped away from the door towards the bed and me. As he drew closer, the warmth inside me grew and grew, becoming almost unbearable. He undressed and came towards me, and in that second the warmth went from irritating to painful. I lashed out, finding a new strength that seemed to come from the searing heat.
         As I lunged for him, I had a flash of anger from him and it drove me forward. He tried to stop me, to deflect me from path towards his throat, but I was unstoppable. I was driven by the heat and it was steering me towards his death. 
         My hands closed around his throat and squeezed as he gasped for air, clawing at the backs of my hands. The warmth told me this wasn't enough, Carl needed to feel more pain. I dug the nails of my right hand into his esophagous as i reached down with my left.
         I watched his eyes widen as he realised where I was reaching for, and I snickered.
         "Is this what I want, Daddy Carl? It is, isn't it? What every lady wants from you. Well, they can't have it anymore, cause I'm taking it." My voice was low and full of growl, it wasn’t my voice. My hands reached their goal and he squeaked in my grasp.
         I let him wriggle for a moment before I yanked downwards with my left hand as hard as I could, which turned out to be very hard. His favourite parts came right off in my hand, and he screamed as much as his closed esophagous would allow. I let him bleed and whimper for a few minutes, relishing in his pain that fed my own little monster inside. It felt so good and I almost enjoyed his pain, but it disgusted me at the same time.
         As I realised this, I thought ‘what am I doing?’  I released his throat and he dropped to floor. I stood over top of Daddy Carl, and looked at my hands covered in his blood, still grasping the remains of his manhood. I puked; all over the floor, my father and my hands.  My mind flew out of control, racing from one side to the other: Kill him! Help Him! Run! What did I do!? Kill him! Kill Him KILL HIM!
In my own panic, I glanced over at Carl where he lie in the fetal position, and knew that I was the one in power now. I saw my whole life with this prick flash through my mind and maybe if there had been one good memory of him I would have just run away. But there weren't any, so I raised my foot and brought it down on the back of his neck. The blow dropped him the rest of the way to floor where he rolled over and looked up at me.
         I could see his eyes pleading with me, he knew I was going to kill him. I liked his fear, and was repulsed by my pleasure.  I remembered all the times I pleaded with him, begged him, but he never listened, and now he was at my mercy. I found I didn't have any.  I looked down on him and saw his death flash before my eyes. I saw his eyes go dull, his jaw slacken and I knew it was time. My eyes rolled back into my head as the warmth in my belly grew, filling me from my toes to my hair. It built until I thought I could stand no more, then I released it along with my breath that I apparently had been holding. I felt the warmth speeding from me, focused on Daddy Carl. When it reached him, his eyes bulged and his mouth fell open as he gasped and struggled. The warmth was killing him for me, I knew this and was satisfied. I kept eye contact until he broke the stare with his death.
         Daddy Carl was finally dead and I felt so alive. The warmth wasn't so strong now, but i could feel it there. It almost felt like it was laying dormant, waiting for another opportunity to open up and fill me with that impressive strength again.
         Lucy.
          My adoptive mother's name floated to me as I walked down the hall as I shook and shivered with horror and pleasure. I stopped in front of her door. I knew she was in there, most likely passed out wrapped around the toilet. Did she deserve the same fate as her beloved Carl? Would she even notice we were both gone if I said nothing to her and left? How long till she found the body?
         I stood there torn between running and killing her for about two minutes before I remembered how hard she worked to voluntarily ignore what her husband was doing with her daughter. That made up my mind. The drunk had to go.
         I opened Lucy's door, slowly, and crept into her adjoining bathroom. She was exactly where I thought she would be, only she was conscious. As I walked in, she looked up at me and I stopped.
         "Where's your father, Celene. I would rather you not see me right now. Go ask him for whatever it is you want."
         Typical. Lucy shoving me off on Carl, big surprise.
         "The only thing I need, mother, is to help you into bed. Come on." I bent and put my arms around her. Lucy reached out and brushed me off.
         "I can get up on my own, I'm not incompetent, Celene." as she said this she tried to stand. Lucy got about half way up before she stumbled backwards and I had to reach out and catch her. The physical contact woke up the monster and the warmth returned, filling my world with shades of red.
         I carried Lucy to her bed and felt her annoyance at being ushered by me deep in my stomach, right where that warm little thing was. She flopped into the bed and started to roll over to her side, but I reached out and grabbed her shoulder.
         "Mother, can I ask you something?" I put a begging note in my voice, half hoping she would answer my question but knowing she would skirt it aside. "Why don't you care about what Carl does with me?"
         Lucy gaped at me for a second before pinching the bridge of her nose and squeezing her eyes shut. "Please, Celene, I'm really tired. Would you just let me go to sleep?"
         She was going to sleep alright. I grabbed the hand that pinched her nose and wrenched it to the side, twisting. Lucy let out a cry of pain as I said "Yes, mother. You can go to sleep now."
         I felt the warmth squirm deeper into me, growing bigger at the same time. It enveloped me again as I looked down on my mother struggling in my hand. I took my time with Carl, the same way he had taken his time with me all those years. It seemed only fitting for me to kill Lucy quickly and brush her off, the same way she'd always been short and sweet with me.
         I reached down inside myself, trying to bring out of me whatever had come out in that room with Carl, but all I felt was the constant steady warmth. It stayed right where it was, content at the bottom of my tummy.  I tensed up, breathed deep and hard, doing my best to bring it out. Still, nothing happened, no one was dead.
         “Celene?  You’re hurting me. Get out.” I realised I’d been standing there looking like an idiot while I tried to summon some power that was probably just a product of my corrupted mind. I knew I had no choice but to kill her with my bare hands. When I had this thought , that warm thing quivered as if it was pleased with what I was doing. I tried to ignore it and step away from Lucy, but it had me in its claws and I had to obey. I saw this and it frightened me when I realised I wouldn’t be in control of this warm little monster.  I wound my hand through her hair and swung her head back. The loud crack her skull made was oddly delicious. I don’t know how else to describe it.
         It took about three hits but eventually Lucy's brains were all over her pretty wooden headboard. The blood dripped onto the lush white carpet and I giggled as I turned away. I spied her jewelry box on the nightstand and emptied her collection of diamonds into my pockets.
         I made one last walkthrough of my adopted parents mansion, pocketing little things here and there. I wasn’t too worried about my fingerprints, after all I did live in the house. Plus, if they suspected me, I didn’t plan on being found. I emptied Carl’s wallet and Lucy’s purse before I took a last look at my home, my prison.
         Then I ran.
         




Chapter  2
         I ran until I came to the high way on the other side of town, skipping through backroads and alleyways like Red Riding Hood on her way to grandma’s house.  It was only around eleven on a Sunday night so the roads were empty except for a few speeding errand-runners. I figured I had at until 7 am when Millie would go in to wake Carl and find the bodies.
         I stuck out my thumb and started walking backwards like I’d seen drifters do in movies. After about fifteen minutes of this and seeing only 3 cars that didn’t even begin to slow down,  I turned and kept walking forward. I wanted to get to somewhere obscure where I could hole up while I pawned Lucy’s jewelry.
         There was a small town about fifteen minute drive up the highway where I figured I could find a pawn shop in the morning. I set my sights on getting there and started trekking. I got what I thought was about halfway when a car slowed and pulled up beside me. The driver stopped and rolled down the passenger seat window.
         “Little late for a young lady like yourself to be walking this far away from home.”  The driver was a fiftyish grey haired old man that screamed suburban grandpa.
         “Yes, but I have somewhere I really need to be and this is my only way to get there. Unless of course you happened to be on your way to Fullerton and don’t mind some company.” I figured I might as well get to the point with this guy, he might be my last chance till morning to get a ride.
         “Hmm, hitchhiking aye? Are you sure you really have to be there? Or do you just really not want to be here?”  He eyed me like we were sharing some kind of secret, so I decided to play along.
         “You’re right, I really don’t want to be here right now. I’m trying to get to Fullerton to meet someone. And if I don’t make it by morning, he’ll be gone.”
         “Ahh, love, she tells me. Okay, miss get on in the car and we’ll get you to Fullerton. After all a broken heart isn’t something a girl as pretty as you should feel.” This guy was overly friendly, but harmless. I wouldn’t have to kill any more people tonight.
         I got in the car and looked at the glowing numbers in the centre of the dashboard. 3:12. I hadn’t realised I’d been walking that long and still hadn’t got anywhere. I must have been about another twenty minute walk from Fullerton.
         The old man pulled away from the shoulder and sped up to a little over the speed limit. I sat back and felt my legs grow sore from the day I’d just left behind. As the last little bit of country flashed by my window, I thought back to what I’d done and felt horrified. Horrified and yet so satisfied. The bastards were dead and that was all that mattered. I noticed that warmth stirring inside me and relaxed into it. Whatever was going on inside of me, I liked it. It came on sudden, and it changed me just as quick. I felt physically strong even though I was worn from running all night. The world seemed clearer, sharper. I could hear the old man’s heartbeat pounding steadily beside me and the sound was so entrancing. I focused on the sound letting it lull me while the monster stretched and languished in the sound. It turned slowly, enjoying itself and suddenly the sound wasn’t enough for it. The warmth built again, pushing its way through my body. I could feel it reaching for the man, searching for the source of the melodic beating it seemed to relish. He had done nothing to me and yet I wanted to feel his death, know that it happened at my hand. The monster inside wriggled with pleasure as I felt it draw closer to him. I saw his eyes squint and he coughed, pressing his hand to his chest.
         “Whoa, that came from nowhere, usually I’m healthy as an ox” He looked over at me and must have been disturbed because he slowed, swerving slightly. “Miss, are you feeling ok?”
         I couldn’t answer him, I only reeled as the warmth lashed out for him. I felt his soul  rip from his body and I screamed. I felt his pain, a pain like no other, The pain of losing your soul before death.  I writhed and flailed, trying to escape and withdraw the monster but it was having too much fun. I knew the old man was going to die for having helped me, and I didn’t want that. And yet I was powerless to stop my monster, in those moments it ruled me. It was my master and I must let it have him. A reward lurked under all this pain, it had to. So I let go, and blacked out.
         I was out for only a few minutes before I woke to find the man dead beside me. The warmth still flowed through me in waves that relieved all the pain I’d felt, soothing and exciting me at the same time.  Through the waves, I stared at the man willing him to wake up but I knew he wasn’t going to and I knew I was screwed.
         I lurched out of the car and hurled, disgusted with all aspects of myself. How did this happen, I didn’t hate him, he was nice to me, there was no reason for him to die, what have I done, I’m so screwed, what do I do, where do I go….my mind was scrambling with itself. Running around in panic, trying to right itself.